


Some Good Old Festive Fun

by itsallAvengers



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve Rogers, Serious Injuries, Team as Family, Wildly Inappropriate Use Of The Avengers Medical Wing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: Tony's injured, night is falling, and he's stranded in a cabin with a handful of teammates who are woefully under-equipped to deal with the oncoming wave of HYDRA soldiers that are about to blow down their door and pick them off.Honestly though, Tony's more pissed about the fact that this all happened during Christmas. Were everything going to plan, he'd be copping a feel with Captain America under the mistletoe right about now.Sometimes he really hates his job.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 45
Kudos: 1001





	Some Good Old Festive Fun

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for Meg, who asked for protective avengers, injured Tony, and a stevetony endgame! I hope this is everything you were looking for!

Of all the ways Tony could’ve been spending his Christmas eve, this was _definitely_ not one of the scenarios he’d envisioned.

With a grunt followed quickly by a straight-up moan of pain, he was eased gently onto the dusty cot tucked into the side of the cabin by Natasha and Rhodey, Bruce hovering over him anxiously and waiting until he was steady before instantly getting to his haunches and zeroing in on the deep red section of what had once been Tony’s pristine white ski-pants. He mourned the loss of them for a moment, because that would _definitely_ not come out in the wash, but then Bruce gently lifted his leg and his ruined pants quickly became the least of his problems. “FUCK!” He hissed through his teeth, head spinning with the pain.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bruce muttered apologetically, “we need to raise it, Tony.” He hoisted it further up until it was at an appropriate point in the air and then snapped at Rhodey to go get something to hold it up. The man nodded curtly and hurried away to a place Tony’s hazy vision couldn’t see him.

It’d all happened so goddamn fast. This wasn’t even an Avengers callout, that was the most irritating fucking part of it. They were just on holiday. Skiing in the Alps in the two days before Christmas, because Thor had never done it before and when Clint had explained the concept to him, the man had begged for them all to go, and they’d thought, why the hell not? It would be fun, right? Harmless skiing, wind in your hair, no work-stuff having to follow them into the mountains?

Wrong. Work stuff had definitely followed. Tony could attest to that.

The HYDRA team had come from nowhere, camouflaged in their white suits and equipped with weaponry that greatly outshone anything the Avengers had been carrying (which, for the record, was fucking nothing). Tony’s only explanation for the surprise visit was that they’d somehow found out about the trip and decided it was the perfect opportunity to take them out when they were least expecting it. It had very nearly worked, too. Bruce had dosed himself with a suppressant a few days earlier which kept the Hulk locked away during the Christmas period, so he’d not been able to offer much help, and although Steve had brought his shield along, he’d left it back at their hotel down at the bottom of the valley. When the enemy had started shooting at them, it had only been their quick reflexes and experience that’d saved their lives.

Although, of course, they hadn’t gotten away scot-free. A frag bomb had gone off a little too near Tony and the debris had sliced right through his leg. In fact, if it wasn’t for the snow-storm that’d whipped up during the ambush, he was pretty sure he’d be dead. That was the only reason that Nat, Bruce and Rhodey had had enough cover to pick him up and carry him away to safety. None of them had known that there was a miraculous little cabin fairly nearby, and so stumbling on it had been nothing short of a one-in-a-million chance. Tony would make sure to be grateful for that later.

For now though, there was a whole other myriad of problems to deal with.

“Lean your head back,” Natasha ordered, her cool fingers pressing into Tony’s forehead and resting him against the thin pillow on the cot. She turned and analyzed the wound for a moment, and then her mouth pursed. That wasn’t promising. “I don’t think we can just bandage this. The bleeding’s not slowed up at all. We need to cauterize the wound.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Cauterise?” He gasped, “I don’t fucking think so, no, no—”

“Tony.” Bruce looked up at him solemnly, “Natasha’s right. It’s cut through an artery. If we don’t close this up now, it’s going to kill you in less than an hour.”

Tony tried to glare at them, but his vision was too fuzzy and his head too heavy to hold up. He groaned, biting down on his lip when a fresh wave of agony rolled through him. This was fucking _typical_. “I hate Christmas,” he hissed, feeling the back of his head hit the pillow, “I fucking hate Christmas, I hate—”

“It’s HYDRA you should be hating, bud,” Rhodey came to stand by him and rested his hand gently upon Tony’s shoulder, “they threw the bomb at you.”

The man had a point, but Tony was too delirious at that point to acknowledge it properly. Everything was on fire. His leg might as well have been ripped off, it hurt that much, and he was fast losing grip of all coherence as he watched the thick red spread down his leg and drip onto the cot. He was definitely going to die, which sucked, because he’d totally been planning on asking Steve out this Christmas and now he’d never even get the chance because he was going to croak it in some fucking cabin out in the middle of fucking nowhere—

“TONY!” A light slap on the face pulled him back into the room, and he blinked wearily, hearing a moan fall from his lips. “Stay with us, Tones, you’re gonna be okay. We’ve got you.” That was Natasha again, sat between his legs and looking at him determinedly. She waved a hand behind her. “Rhodey, look around this hut, see if there’s anything useful here. Bruce, I have a blade tucked in my rucksack. Turn on that portable stove in the corner, see if there’s still gas in there. If not, we can rig up a fire.”

Tony wanted Steve.

Weird thing to think when your friends were preparing to give you a third degree burn, but then again, Tony could blame it on the hysteria. He wanted Steve, because Steve would probably do something comforting, like smile at him or tell him it would all be okay. Steve was good at stuff like that. It was one of the reasons Tony was so crazy about him. Steve always helped, no matter the situation—even if the situation was a hole in your leg and the prospect of imminent agony and subsequent sepsis.

 _God_ , it fucking hurt. He wanted Steve _. He wanted Steve._

“I know bud,” Bruce was patting his hair softly, “I know, and he’s looking for you as we speak, I promise. He can’t have gotten far. Him and Thor and Clint are on their way, and then we’ll get you to a hospital and it’ll all be fine.”

Rhodey came back into his line of sight just then, carrying a green bag that was covered in a layer of dust. “First aid kit,” he declared, “there are some painkillers in here. Anyone got something he can wash it down with?”

The team all coordinated themselves flawlessly around Tony, and he had to admit, of all the people he could have been ambushed with on the side of a blizzardy mountain, he was glad that it was them. The rest of their friends had been cut off from them about an hour ago during the middle of the fight, and now Tony had no idea where any of them were- or even, God forbid, if they were still alive- but at the very least, Tony had Rhodey and Bruce and Nat to look after him. And they would do so to the absolute best of their abilities, which, considering them, was a pretty good standard.

“Tony,” Natasha’s voice called out to him, and he felt his leg as it was shifted again, the tearing sound of a blade cutting through the material of his trousers. The pain was fading now, which was probably not a good sign at all, because that meant he was already losing consciousness. “Tony, bite down on this.” She held a leather belt—Rhodey’s, probably—to his mouth, and Tony took it between his teeth dutifully.

This, he figured, was not going to be fun.

He wasn’t aware of how much time had passed between them getting ambushed, getting to the cabin and then getting around to actually searing his wound shut, but it didn’t feel like long at all. He wasn’t sure whether he could even handle two hard hits like this in quick concession. His heart was already on the weaker side, after all. And everything was blurring at the edges, like there was static in his vision.

He saw Natasha look to Bruce. Felt Rhodey as he positioned Tony’s head so that it was laying in his lap. His best friend stroked the sweaty hair from out of his face and smiled down at him, but when he turned his gaze to Bruce, the expression fell. They said something to one another that Tony didn’t catch, but then Natasha’s gentle hand on his cheek drew his attention back to her. He figured that was so he didn’t watch Bruce go to collect the flat blade that they had searing over the stove.

“Steve’s gonna come find you soon, Tony,” she said easily, smiling at him as she stroked his hand, “just think about Steve, okay? What’s his favourite colour?”

Tony considered the question, breathing through his nose as Bruce approached him, the knife glowing an ominous dark red. “I think it’s pur—”

The rest of his sentence was lost in an ear-piercing scream.

*

With an angry lurch, Steve hauled up another one of the bodies in the snow and tried to find anything useful tucked away in the uniform. The HYDRA logo sneered up at him as he checked the pockets, and not for the first time that day, he thought about how nice life was going to be once they’d wiped that organization off the face of the Earth.

God, he was worried sick.

They’d all seen Tony go down earlier, but in the chaos and the fighting, the team had been separated and they’d lost one another. Steve, Thor and Clint had had to keep the brawl going so that the attention was on them and not the others while they’d dragged Tony to safety, but it also meant that now those stupid HYDRA fucks had finally been dealt with, none of them knew where the others actually _were_. The still-falling snow had covered their tracks. And Tony’s blood.

There had been a lot of blood. He shuddered.

A hand landed softly on his shoulder, and Steve jerked his head up to see Thor staring solemnly down at him. “We need to head back down to the hotel and call for help,” he declared, “we cannot get any signal here, and if we leave it too long, we put Tony’s life at risk.”

A few paces away, Steve watched Clint straighten up from the rock he’d been resting on. They’d only just taken out the last HYDRA operative, but it’d taken its toll. Clint was sporting a rather spectacularly broken nose, and Steve himself was pretty sure a bullet had clipped his shoulder. “It’ll take hours to get down there in these conditions,” the man said, voice nasally as he wiped a trickle of blood off his chin and then waved a hand across the terrain, still obscured by the harsh winds and spiralling snowfall. “Tony might not have that long.”

“What other choice do we have?” Thor snapped, “the best chance we have of getting to him in time is if we call a large-scale search party. This mountain is too big to search alone and without equipment.”

“They can’t have gotten far!” Clint argued, “did you see Tony? They had to practically drag him away!”

Steve flinched like someone had physically hit him. For a second, it was all he could see in his mind’s eye, but he hastily forced it down before it could send him spiralling. It wouldn’t help them just then. “Even if they are close by, if we don’t follow their trail perfectly, we risk getting further and further apart,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Thor’s probably right. We have to find backup, or at least get to a place where we can call for help.”

“And if there are more HYDRA teams following the others right now?” Clint questioned, face hard, “if there are enemies with equipment that can hunt them down way better than we can? They’ll attack again and this time we’ll be four hours down the mountain. They won’t stand a chance.”

There was a short silence, the three men all staring at one another. Steve swallowed down the panic and tried to focus, but all he could see was the way Tony had looked when he’d gone down earlier in the fight. He’d been too far away and Steve had been too preoccupied with fending off three different attackers, and so he hadn’t even been able to call out to him. He could only watch, horror-stricken as the bomb had gone off, and then listen to Tony’s following scream.

Now, for all he knew, Tony could be dead.

He shook himself again. No, no, Tony would be fine. He was with the rest of the team, and Steve knew without a doubt that they would keep him safe. He just had to trust them until help arrived. They’d be okay. Tony would be okay.

He had to be. Anything else just wasn’t worth thinking about.

“Steve?” He blinked, realising that Clint had asked him a question. When it became clear he hadn’t been listening, Clint repeated, “What are we doing? Going up or going down?”

He thought it over for a few seconds. Then decided. “We’re splitting up,” he said, straightening his back, “I’ll stay up here. You and Thor get down to call for help.” At the look on their faces, he acknowledged that he was going to have to justify this, and so he raised his hands before either of them could interject. “Look, I’m not hurt, I have heightened senses, and I can hold my own. You’re right that we need backup for this, but if there’s even a chance that we can find them quickly then I can’t pass on it.”

“All that’s going to do is get you lost with them, Steve,” Clint snapped irritably, “come on, just—”

“If I find him, I can carry him down, or at the very least I can get back down the mountain quicker than anyone else and relay their coordinates,” Steve argued, his voice firm, “no one who’s with him right now is strong enough for that. And anyway- once you get to the foot of the mountain it’s easy enough to find your way to civilization.” Sensing that Clint was gearing up to argue further, Steve just shook his head and took a step backward. “I’m not going with you, guys. I… I can’t leave him.”

Thor grit his teeth, sending Steve a despairing look and then glancing back to Clint with a shrug. Both of them knew that Steve wouldn’t change his mind on this. Not when it came to Tony. In fact, he was pretty sure everyone on the team knew that. The others would be expecting Steve to be searching for him, undoubtedly. Under other circumstances, he might have been a little embarrassed by that, but as it was, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just wanted to find Tony as quickly as possible.

“Alright,” Thor conceded in the end, “if you think that’s what’s best. At the very least, we’ve got guns now.” He waved to the bodies around them and picked up a fallen weapon from the body of a dead HYDRA goon, and then tossed it over to Steve. “Be careful. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

Clint rolled his eyes as he too swiped his own gun from a nearby corpse. “No point saying that to him. It’s Tony on the line here.” He pointed at Steve. “Also, can I just mention that you’re paying for my skis when we get back. I got these specially designed and everything.” He attempted to tug the dark purple ski from within the chest cavity of the man underneath him, but sighed when the thing wouldn’t even budge. Admittedly, Steve had thrown it at a pretty rapid velocity. They’d been the only thing available to use as a weapon at the time, short of throwing Clint himself, which probably wouldn’t have gone down very well.

“I’ll ask Tony to reimburse you when I find him,” Steve said with a tight smile, rolling his shoulders and holding back a wince. Thor’s eyes narrowed slightly, but Steve turned away and started walking in the direction of where he’d last seen the others heading, before they’d become shrouded in snow and forest. “Go get us some help. Call JARVIS when you can, get him to send a drone down, deep-scan the mountain. We’ll find him.”

“I know,” Thor said from behind his back, voice deep and concerned, “it’s you I’m worried about.”

Steve just kept walking. He had a job to do now. And nothing on hell or Earth was going to stop him.

*

The cabin was freezing.

That was one of the first things Tony became aware of when he woke up. The next thing he realised was that he was groaning, and then the thing after that was that _fucking hell, everything fucking hurt._

The sky was dark outside. They should have been on the Quinjet home by now. Back to the safety of New York for Christmas. But Tony got the feeling that he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, however, due to the fact that when he glanced down at his leg, he remembered everything that the poor limb had just gone through and came to the conclusion that it most certainly would not be up for any more movement today.

“Fuck,” he managed to say, which caught the attention of Bruce, who was sat on the floor next to Tony’s head. The man shifted and turned to him, a weary smile on his face.

“Good evening,” he said softly, “how are you feeling, Tony?”

He shifted ever so slightly, and pain rocketed up his body. He barely held back the cry. “Top of the world,” he gritted out, “is— is everyone okay? Have we made contact with the others yet?”

“No.” That was Natasha who spoke, walking into his line of vision and then sitting down on the cot beside Bruce. She lifted a hand and settled it in Tony’s hair immediately, then began stroking her fingers delicately from forehead to crown. It felt nice. A wonderful contrast to everything else his body was experiencing. “There’s no signal, and the storm has started up again. Rhodey’s patrolling the cabin in case of another HYDRA attack, which is likely, seeing as they came far more prepared than we did.”

Ah. So the hair-petting was strategically done in order to soothe the blow of that statement then. Tony sighed. “Well that all sounds horrific,” he said, and then rolled his heavy head sideways, smiling at her. She returned it softly.

“It’s nice to see you awake, мой дорогой.” Her hand settled at his forehead, feeling his temperature. The smile turned downward. “I’m afraid you’re about to be in for an unpleasant few hours though.”

“We’ve given you a shot of morphine,” Bruce followed on from her sentence, “but there was only one in the med-kit, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to wear off soon. And the gas stove ran out of fuel about ten minutes ago, so it’s gonna get pretty cold from here on out.”

Tony looked between the two of them. “You know, you two are really instilling—ugh, _ow, fuck_ —confidence in me right now. I’m glad I’ve got you two and your wonderful bedside manners to keep me company while I slowly contract sepsis.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and then resumed hair-stroking. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, “help is on its way. Focus on the petting I’m giving you right now. This is rare.”

“You know, hair-petting isn’t like some magical cure-all,” Tony informed her, which would have been a strong argument had she not in that moment curled her fingers just behind his ear and caused an involuntary hum of appreciation to fall from his mouth. “Although I suppose it helps a little bit,” he conceded through a mumble.

Natasha laughed softly up above him, and he felt himself slowly drift off into that hazy place that came just before the pain started to hit properly. He knew he was in a bad way, and that the tones Natasha and Bruce were speaking in didn’t exactly spell good things, but in that moment he couldn’t say he felt particularly endangered. The morphine was still working, and he was surrounded by people that he trusted with his life. He knew they’d been in worse scenarios than this. They’d all be okay.

Probably.

His teeth chattered as he watched Natasha and Bruce quietly begin to move around the room, talking in low voices and picking up seemingly random bits of old junk from wherever they could find it. Admittedly, there wasn’t much, but they managed to make a small pile after ten or so minutes of pilfering and dismantling of various pieces of furniture. A few minutes after that, Rhodey came back in and Bruce went out, presumably to take over the shift. His best friend’s eyes zeroed in on him immediately. “You’re awake.”

“Mmm, I’m surprised too,” Tony mumbled, shooting him a weak smile as Rhodey hurried forward and got to his knees in front of Tony. His hand settled over Tony’s. “How’d I look, Platypus?”

“Never better,” Rhodey said softly. “You scared the shit out of me, man. You blacked out. Bruce said you’d wake up but, fuck, I dunno—”

“M’okay,” Tony told him, trying to think back over the past few hours. They were hazy and dark, filled with faint memories of his own screams. He was glad that he couldn’t remember too well. “What’s HYDRA’s status?” He asked, shifting the subject as he attempted to sit up a little.

“Tony, stop squirming,” Natasha called out from the middle of the room, pointing a finger at Rhodey. “Rhodey, please stop him squirming.”

A hand settled on his stomach, and Rhodey’s eyebrow cocked. “You heard the woman,” he said, and with an irritated grunt, Tony lay back down again. “HYDRA haven’t shown so far,” the man continued, “but we’re preparing for the worst until help comes. I doubt they’d have just given up after the first failed attempt. This is their shot now. They’re gonna take it.”

“That why Tasha’s collecting every vaguely sharp item she can find in this place?” Tony nodded his head over to the steadily growing pile, where Natasha was now sat carving what had once been the arm of a rocking chair into a pointed spear.

Rhodey nodded. “We managed to get a handgun off one of the HYDRA agents before we had to retreat, but there’s only three bullets left in it. Nat’s got her big fuck-off knife, I’ve got a tiny pathetic pen-knife, Bruce has nothing, but we’re working on booby-trapping the cabin so that if anyone _does_ stumble upon us, it’ll be hell to actually get in and kill us.”

Tony paused. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me Rhodey.”

“What?”

“This is just Home Alone but with higher stakes,” Tony told him drily, rolling his eyes and waving around him. Rhodey shook his head and began to rebuke him, but Tony kept talking. “Christmas time, stuck at home, evil villains threatening us, creating traps out of arm-chairs and stove-tops? Macaulay Culkin called, Rhodey-Bear, and he’s asking for royalties. God, I can’t believe this.” Tony sighed. “You know, I blame Thor for this. Stupid stuff happens whenever we let Thor pick the holiday activities.”

“Shut up,” Rhodey said fondly, ruffling his hair, “you’re only jealous because you can’t make traps with us.”

“Hey, whoah, I can totally still make traps!” Tony tried to sit up again, but he moved too fast and suddenly everything was spinning, pain erupting in his leg and forcing a gasp from his throat. He felt himself tumble sideways, body threating to spill right off the cot, but a pair of sturdy hands caught him and Rhodey held tight as he gently lay Tony back down.

“I got you,” he said soothingly, “it’s alright. We’re good, Tony. You need to rest.”

“Fuck that, I can help—”

“I know you can.” Rhodey’s hand gripped his again. “But you’re hurt, okay? Just let us take care of you. You gotta stay safe until help arrives, and any movement could risk opening up the injury. You know how high the chance of infection is after cauterisation.” Rhodey’s face was solemn, and he shook his head. “Right now, our main priority is keeping you alive. So lie back and take a break, alright?”

Tony huffed in frustration, but the small movement of sitting up had already made him nauseous and the pain was slowly starting to edge in. He felt weak, cold and yet hot all at once, and he couldn’t move without shaking. He truly didn’t have much choice but to just lie there and be useless while his friends worked around him.

Time moved on, the temperature dropping with each hour into the evening they went. The pain got worse. Tony slipped in and out of consciousness, knowing that his friends were still around him, still checking up. He felt something warm and soft slip over him, and blinked his eyes open as Bruce stepped back, now down to nothing but the thermal undershirt he had under his coat. He shuddered a little, although forced himself to stop when he saw Tony looking.

“Take it back,” Tony mumbled, feeling the warm insides of Bruce’s thick jacket as it insulated him, “Bruce, you’re gonna—”

“—Be fine,” Bruce finished, giving him a small smile. His hand settled, firm and reassuring, against Tony’s shoulder. Tony tried to argue, but the words were too fuzzy to grasp and make real on his mouth. They hung instead in the air between them. Bruce, however, was not moved. “I’ll keep moving, stay warm that way.”

And then he was off again, crouching down with Natasha and waving a finger toward one of the rafters in the ceiling. Tony simply watched, breaths shallow, vision hazy. He couldn’t move. Could barely even talk.

He really wished they’d stayed at home.

At home, it was warm. JARVIS always kept the temperatures in the tower above what was normal, but in winter they got knocked up a few more degrees and turned the penthouse floor into a veritable oven. Most of the team complained that it was far too hot. But Steve liked it. Steve said it was easier to sleep when he was warm; that the cold had always gotten into his bones and stiffened him, made him feel like a living corpse. So Tony kept it warm. And at home there was food, too. A nice warm bath. There was mistletoe hung up in strategic locations so that, according to Tony’s calculations, there was a 94% likelihood of him being able to catch Steve right underneath at least one of them at some point.

God, he’d had a whole plan. This Christmas had been supposed to be good. He’d been _supposed_ to finally find the courage to ask Steve out, he’d gotten an awesome gift for Clint that he knew the guy would love, and they’d been going to watch Die Hard after Christmas Dinner. He and Steve might’ve even done some snuggling, dependant on at what point during the day Tony had managed to finally express his stupid feelings. Now, though, they weren’t going to be able to do any of that. Instead, they were stuck in a freezing little cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere. And Tony was pretty sure he was dying.

He sighed miserably. “Hurts,” he heard himself whimper, and some part of him was a little mortified to admit that, but the bigger part just wanted it all to stop.

There was a nudge against his mouth, and someone— Natasha, maybe—placed the rim of something against his bottom lip. Cool water trickled onto his tongue, and he drank gratefully, hearing her talk to him in soft Russian, a hand running back through his hair. She looked at him, and then glanced down to the watch on her wrist and smiled. “Two minutes ‘til Christmas,” she informed him, shuffling until her back was pressed up against the wall.

He looked at her, then groaned softly as his leg flared up in pain. “You should’ve stuck to your guns ‘n gone to the Bahamas,” he muttered, remembering their conversation earlier that month.

She just laughed. “Tony, I was never gonna go to the Bahamas. Same way Clint wasn’t ever gonna go see his family in Wyoming and Steve wasn’t going to take that mission which fell during the Christmas period. They were just little musings, I guess. What-if’s.”

“Why?” Tony’s voice was throaty and hoarse, and his mouth was moving before he even thought about saving face and stopping it. “Not like you’d all be missing much if you left.”

She eyed him blankly for a moment, but then chose to allow an expression to fall over her face. Sadness. She touched his cheek. “I wish you didn’t think things like that,” she murmured, “Tony, we’re family. That is what Christmas is for. Going home, being with loved ones. And seeing as the majority of us didn’t even _have_ a place to call home until you and The Avengers… why would we ever want to go anywhere else?”

“It’s true.” With a slight groan of discomfort, Bruce lowered himself onto the floor beside the cot, smiling at the two of his friends. “It says something when you think about the fact that even now, I’d still rather be here with you guys than back at the place I grew up in.”

Tony smiled down at him, and Bruce returned it until Nat poked him in the arm and his focus shifted. “Happy Christmas,” she said, showing them her watch, now reading at 00:00.

“Merry Christmas,” Bruce returned, tired smile shining on Tony and Natasha as he took both of their hands and squeezed. Tony shut his eyes and attempted to respond in kind, but he couldn’t find the energy and instead just hummed, hoping they would get the message anyway.

They sat there in quiet for a few minutes, shivering in the cold but warmed by one another’s presence as they all huddled together. Tony wanted to say something about how he was glad that he had them, not just in this situation—although God knows he was, they’d saved his life ten times over today—but in general, too. He’d hated Christmas for as long as he’d been alive, but these last few years when it’d been spent with them, he could finally understand what everyone had been going on about when they said that the Christmas period was the best time of the year. Turned out, it was more about who you spent it with than what you did. Who’d have thought?

He rolled his head and looked at Bruce. “You gotta tell Steve ‘bout my plan, kay?” He slurred, “He’ll like it. Think it’s funny.”

“Tell him yourself,” Natasha said firmly, “we’ll be out of here in a few more hours, I’m sure of it. We just have to sit tight and wait.”

Tony hummed. He had a feeling that he might not hold out that long. “Was gonna… had the mistletoe everywhere,” he muttered, “and specially designed crackers. It was a whole thing.”

Bruce and Natasha glanced at each other. “Specially designed crackers?” Natasha mouthed to the other man, who just shook his head in confusion and turned to Tony, asking, “the edible kind or the Christmas kind?”

“Christmas,” Tony informed him, waving a hand weakly, “had these… these cool questions in ‘em. Was gonna sit on Steve’s right hand side an’ he’d pull the cracker with me an… yeah.” He sighed, thinking of the way Steve’s cheeks would’ve turned a little pink as he read the question- _‘Thoughts on dating Tony Stark?’_. Of course it was a little blunt, a little crass, but by that point in the night Tony was supposed to have kissed the man in at least three different mistletoe-laden locations in the tower, and so it would have then become obvious to Steve that this had been the plan all along: straight up just looking Steve in the eye and asking, via Christmas Cracker, if he was interested.

In all honesty, Tony was pretty certain he was. Granted, it’d probably taken him longer than average to reach that conclusion what with all the neuroses he carried with him, but even _he_ couldn’t deny the way Steve looked at him sometimes. He knew that they were skirting around each other, around this _thing_ between them that neither of them dared speak into existence.

But hell. It was Christmas. And Tony had been creating plans ever since June, a lot of them far more intricate and over the top than this. Steve should be grateful he’d settled with a Christmas cracker. At one point in September, he’d been thinking more along the lines of a boat-based confession.

But anyway. He’d finally, _finally_ settled on making a move at Christmas. A fairly simple, if typically Tony-Stark sort of move. And as nervous as he felt, he’d also been excited for it. Because he was pretty certain Steve’s reaction would be positive. And he’d wanted this for so long.

Now, though, it was all up in the air as to whether he’d actually get it, or whether he’d die before he could utter a single word along the lines of ‘I’m crazily, stupidly in love with you’.

Fuck.

Bruce got back up a few minutes later to double-check whatever traps they’d set up around the cabin, and then slipped out of the door to go swap shifts with Rhodey. As soon as the other man walked in the door, he went immediately to Tony’s side and knelt down next to him, getting comfortable on the floor with Natasha. They shared a smile and discussed battle strategies quietly as Tony dozed, but there was a lingering thought that he kept at the forefront of his mind, right up until he was strong enough to voice it: “You guys need to get back down the mountain. It’s too dangerous up here.”

He was aware that it was probably only a matter of time before HYDRA found them in this cabin. The organization was nothing if not irritatingly persistent, and right now this little faction of Avengers were sitting ducks. Maybe the rest of the team had already been dealt with, and now HYDRA were coming for the stragglers. Either way, Tony wasn’t stupid enough to know that the longer they stayed here, the more danger they were in.

Rhodey’s face, however, told Tony that persuading them to leave was going to be difficult. “Nat, I think he’s getting delirious,” he said to the woman next to him, shooting her a look before turning his gaze back to Tony. “You’re delirious.”

“Rhodeybear—”

“Nuh uh, don’t ‘Rhodeybear’ me and then say something self-sacrificial and dumb,” the man cut in, waving a hand, “we’re not leaving, Tony, because leaving would require abandoning you.”

“And that is not going to happen,” Natasha finished evenly, propping herself up and then reaching over for the small pile of nutrient bars that they had. She ripped the wrapper off and then broke off a chunk, then held it up to his mouth. “Eat.”

Tony glared at her, but opened his mouth all the same. She popped the square onto his tongue. It tasted like compacted shit, but food was food. “Tactically, stayin’ here makes no sense,” he argued weakly, wheezing in a small breath in order to speak again. “You can—you can go down unnoticed in th’ darkness, get help, an’ then find me again. Probably in under 24 hours.”

“I don’t have a jacket,” Rhodey said, because ever since Bruce had laid his own coat over Tony, they’re been rotating the two that they had left between the three of them. “I’ll get hypothermia out there.”

“Then take the one I’m usin’.”

“Then _you’ll_ get hypothermia.”

Tony ground his teeth at Rhodey’s purposeful obtuseness and resisted the urge to say something along the lines of _‘I am not important enough for you all to die for’_. He was self-aware enough to know that that was not what the team wanted to hear, and would probably only make them more intent on staying.

“If HYDRA find us here, we are all dead,” Tony snapped, “If you can get down back to civilisation and call for help before they arrive, then everyone might come out of this alive.”

“And that would mean leaving you here, which again, is not going to happen,” Natasha answered, this time with some steel in her voice. “Tony, at least if we’re here, you have a fighting chance when the next wave of attacks come. Telling us to leave you is like telling us to just walk away and let you die.”

“And?” Tony asked, trying to sit upright a little further and then cursing when the movement sent fire through his leg. “Ow, _motherfuck_ — you think my life’s worth all three of yours? I don’t… I don’t _want_ you to do this for me.” He looked imploringly at Natasha and Rhodey, biting his lip. He had to get them to understand. “If you two were in my place, would you want me to stay?”

There was silence. It told Tony enough. “Well then why—”

“And if you were in our place, would _you_ go?” Rhodey cut in before he could finish, and Tony’s throat closed up. He looked at his best friend, and the man just looked back, unflinching.

The answer, of course, was no. Tony would never go. Not in a million fucking years. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t lie about it. “If… if that option offered the highest chance of group survival—”

“Don’t even bother,” Natasha rolled her eyes and then laid her head back gently against Tony’s midsection. “Tactics and probabilities go out of the window when it’s family who hang in the balance. I know you. You wouldn’t leave. In the same way you know us.” Her eyes glazed over, something deep and profound hanging within them as she turned to look at Tony. “Never in my life would I have thought I would choose heart over head,” she said quietly, “and yet here I am. And I don’t regret it. Tactically, maybe you’re right. The sensible option would be to leave you. But none of us are going to do that, in the same way that you would not think for a second about abandoning us up here, so let’s all drop the pretence that it would ever happen, because it won’t.” Her face turned grim and determined, and she looked back over to the door. “When HYDRA come, we will fight, and we will win, and you will get medical assistance, and then you will tell Steve you love him, and everything will be fine.”

She said it with conviction. If Tony didn’t know her so well, he’d think she believed what she was saying.

He sighed in despair. They wouldn’t change their minds, and he wasn’t in a fit enough state to argue with them about it. Their conversation alone had already sapped him of energy. The pain in his periphery kept becoming more and more prominent, and soon it would take over.

He hoped to god that the others were coming. Not for his sake, but for Bruce’s and Rhodey’s and Nat’s. Someone needed to get them the hell out of there. He always told Thor off for summoning lightning in the tower, but God, what he’d give to see that crack of electricity in the air just then, or hear a drawled-out curse that told of Clint Barton’s presence, or the flash of a red white and blue shield as it arced through the air.

This little cabin on the side of the mountain felt like a whole planet away from the others.

And, to make matters worse, Bruce barged back in through the door a few seconds later with a look on his face that told Tony that although their friends were miles away, their enemies were not. The man had small flecks of snow in his hair, and the wind gushed in behind him. A new round of snowfall was on its way.

“They’re here,” Bruce declared, and Tony watched his two friends scramble to their feet and nod to each other.

“Stay with Tony,” Rhodey told Bruce, squaring his shoulders and then grabbing one of the spears Natasha had spent hours crafting. Tony watched Natasha move as well, picking up her knife and turning to Rhodey.

“We have the advantage of darkness,” she said, “we’ll keep quiet and we’ll pick them off before they can even reach the cabin.”

Rhodey nodded. He glanced back to Tony. “Bruce has your back,” he said, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Tony’s overheated forehead. “It’s gonna be fine. Love ya, man.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony hissed, “Rhodey, for God’s sake, all of you need to fucking run—”

“Just keep calm and stay quiet.” That was Natasha, hurriedly swooping down and pressing her own kiss against his temple. She grinned at him, looking dangerous. “It’ll take more than HYDRA to put me and James Rhodes down,” she informed, and then without another word, she turned on her heel and slinked out of the door, Rhodey hot on her heels. Tony tried to make a noise of protest, but it came out strangled and raw. He felt like he was burning up and freezing at the same time, and he could hardly see anything, his vision was that hazy. He knew he didn’t have long left before he was under again.

He saw Bruce take position directly in front of him, gun in hand and a hard, determined look on his face. He would be here as the last line of defence, if Natasha and Rhodey couldn’t hold them all. _Run_ , Tony wished he could say, _get out of here, don’t do this for me, please._

But in reality, all that came out was a sigh, and a moment later his consciousness slipped away, leaving his fate in the hands of his three woefully outgunned friends.

*

Steve heard a gunshot firing.

Quiet, faded in the wind that was blowing around him, but definitely present in the air. It was a noise Steve’s ears had been honed to noticing, and as soon as it processed in his brain, his walk turned to a run, body twisting as he changed course and charged through the snow in the direction the noise had come from.

He’d been searching for hours, traipsing through the brutal cold and calling his friends’ names until his voice had gone hoarse as he’d waited for any sign of a rescue party arriving; whether that be in a helicopter or a quinjet. He didn’t care. He’d just wanted _something_.

But time had passed, afternoon turning to evening and then night, and nothing had come. Now it was just Steve, alone on the snow-thick mountain, only able to see anything at all thanks to his enhanced senses. The blackness of night was almost stifling. It made everything so much more lonely, and Steve couldn’t help but think of the ice, of the plane and the arctic and the all-encompassing isolation that had followed. Of course, it did nothing to actually stop him in his tracks. He wasn’t leaving this God-forsaken mountain unless Tony was with him. He could take a bit of chill in the meantime.

Now, though, the sound of gunfire rang like a gong in his ears, pulling him out of his single-minded trance and spurring him into action. Fear lurched in his gut as he realised Clint had been right: HYDRA had come back for round two, and this time, the stranded Avengers were sitting ducks.

Steve needed to get to them. To Tony.

His legs propelled him through the thick snow faster than any normal human could go, following the general direction of the noise further up the mountain. A minute later and there was another smattering of bullets, quickly followed by what sounded like return fire. It was still faint, but growing louder with every step Steve took. Five, maybe six miles, give or take.

That meant it would be a good ten minutes until Steve could reach them in these conditions.

He swore viciously, hearing his words get carried by the wind as he took up the fastest pace he could manage in the thick snow. It was gruelling work, and he felt the sweat as it began to form on his forehead, felt the groan of his legs as they pushed through snow. He refused to slow down though, and the sensation of his heart hammering in his chest was not brought on by the exertion.

God, he needed to get there before it was too late. Before HYDRA took any more of his loved ones.

His breath wheezed out through a tight throat and he forced himself not to panic, to turn his emotion into strength as he traversed the mountain as fast as he could. He had a direction to head in now. He’d been calling out all night to see if he could get a response, but gunfire was a far louder alternative and the more of it Steve heard, the more precise his direction became. But with each bullet, the terror rose. Any one of them could have planted themselves in a chest, in a head. Tony, Nat, Rhodey, Bruce. He wasn’t sure how well any of them were armed. Had they managed to pick up any weapons along the way? Or were all these shots from the enemy?

“Please,” he whispered, maybe to God, maybe just to himself, “Please, come on, be alive. Be alive.”

It was seven minutes after that unanswered prayer when Steve saw the first pinpricks of a fire, burning on through the trees. Remnants of an explosion, probably. And then there were some very faint shouts, before a lone bullet went off. Steve bit down on his tongue and held himself back from calling his teammates’ names in desperation.

Instead, he simply ran as fast as he could possibly run.

The closer he got, the more he became aware that this fight was done, but only just. Bodies of HYDRA agents littered the ground sporting a variety of wounds, from slashes to bullets to a crudely carved wooden spike stuck in the eye-hole of one of their masks. Steve could see immediately from the craftsmanship that it was Natasha’s work. He broke his silence, looking around desperately as he called out her name. He didn’t care who else heard him. He’d kill them if they moved. “NATASHA! RHODEY?”

There was a second of silence as he stood there, shin-deep in snow and searching the immediate area, before he heard a faint noise. Indistinguishable and far away. Male. Steve called again. _“BRUCE? RHODEY?”_

_“…Steve?”_

He launched himself forward once more. The voice was weary and faint, trembling. He was pretty sure it was Rhodey, and the man sounded injured. He couldn’t see much, but the orange flames from the tree that had somehow caught fire cast a faint shadow across the slope, and he spotted a tiny wooden cabin tucked in at the centre of it all. He moved in that direction, gun raised, calling the names of his friends once more.

This time, Rhodey’s voice was louder when it responded with Steve’s own name; two voices drawing one another in. Steve followed the sound hurriedly, relief flooding him. If one of the team were alive, that meant more could also be alive. It wasn’t too late. He wasn’t too late.

After a final round of call, Steve spotted him. Knelt in the snow, someone else tucked up in his arms. Her red hair was covered with snow, and Steve felt his heart drop. He lowered his gun and raced forward, calling out their names. Rhodey saw him and instinctively raised his own weapon a fraction before he recognised Steve. “Oh thank God,” the man said, “took you long enough.”

“Is she okay?” Steve stumbled to his knees and took Natasha in. She was bleeding from her head and her arm was bent funnily. For a second, there was only the terror of a negative answer.

But then Rhodey nodded. “Still breathing, still a pulse. Just unconscious. She got knocked into a tree.” In that moment, Steve noticed Rhodey’s own wounds. There was a tear in his jacket, and dark red slowly spilled onto the green of the material. The man saw Steve looking and held up a hand. “I’m fine,” he gritted, “just a flesh-wound.”

“Bruce? Tony?” Steve asked hurriedly, knowing his voice became more strained upon the last name.

Rhodey hissed again. “We took out as many as we could. But I can’t… I couldn’t get up after the last one, and I heard gunshots in the cabin from the few stragglers we couldn’t take out—”

Steve was already up and running once more, racing over to the little hut about twenty paces away from where Rhodey and Nat had gone down. It was a tiny thing, and the one single window at the left of the door had been blown in. Steve scrambled for the metal handle and lifted his gun. If there was a single HYDRA logo in the room, Steve was going to riddle it with lead.

Bursting through quickly, Steve threw himself into a roll and used the movement to check his surroundings. Two bodies were on the floor by the door, and three others in the whole which apparently had been blown in on the back-side of the cabin. Two resided on the far end of the room. Steve couldn’t see any of their faces, didn’t know which ones were dead and which were alive. If any were alive.

Oh God, please, please let them be alive.

He heard a noise, a voice, coming from the other side of the room, and as he rolled back onto his feet and lifted his gun, he saw who was making it. Tucked into the corner with his own weapon pointed directly at Steve, Bruce Banner crouched, bloody and bruised, covering Tony’s body as it lay on the cot behind him.

Tony. _Tony_ was there, and his chest was heaving. Up, down, up, down.

 _Breathing_.

He and Bruce both stared at one another for a second. Then Steve made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and let the gun fall limply at his side. He rushed forward. “Tony.”

“Alive,” Bruce gasped, steadying him with two hands on his chest before Steve could go any further, “but in a bad way. Be gentle.”

Steve looked at him, then visibly composed himself. “Are there any more targets?” He said, voice clipped as he knelt down beside Tony and then settled a hand against the pulse on his neck. It was thready and week, and his skin gray, clammy. He was not in a good state.

“I think we got them all,” Bruce told him, wheezing in a short breath as he shuffled upright and turned to Tony, looking him over. “There were about fifteen of them. Nat and Rhodey went out and picked off most of them. I took the four that managed to get through the door.” He turned to Steve. “Are they still alive?”

Steve realised he was talking about Rhodey and Natasha. He nodded his head. “They’re okay,” he said, “I’ll… what about Tony? What happened to him?”

Bruce looked pained. “He was hit in the leg by shrapnel,” he explained, “it punctured his artery. We had to cauterise the wound when we got here or he would’ve died, but I don’t think he’s responded well to it. He’s feverish, sick. I’m not sure how much longer he can hold out.”

Steve bit his lip and looked at the unconscious man lying on the cot in front of him. Absently, he brushed the sweaty hair off his face with a finger, curling it behind his ear and then dropping his hand until it settled over the arc reactor. He could feel Bruce’s gaze on him, but didn’t bother to comment on it. He was just so goddamn glad that they were all safe. It was more than he could ever have hoped for. “I could carry him back down the mountain,” he tried, but even then, he knew it wasn’t going to work. The terrain was too dangerous, made even worse by lack of light. Tony was too weak to cope with something like that. “God, fuck, we need to get out of here.”

Bruce said nothing. He was as lost as Steve. He asked a few short questions while Steve stroked his hand across Tony’s chest, but that was as much time as Steve could spare. For now, he had to get his other friends back into the relative safety of the cabin.

He told Bruce to stay put and then forced his legs to move, head out of the door. Tony would be okay in the few minutes he was gone. Jogging back to where Rhodey and Natasha still lay, he nodded his head and assured them that Bruce and Tony had made it through. Then he crouched down and looked at Rhodey. “Hope you don’t mind being bridal-carried,” he said.

“Actually, it’s my dream in life.” Rhodey smiled tiredly and lifted his arms.

Later, Steve would ask how the hell he and Natasha managed to take down an entire squad of HYDRA soldiers and not end up mortally wounded or dead. Until then, though, Steve would simply have to settle himself with being mildly terrified of the prospect of ever getting on either of their bad sides.

He carried them both back into the cabin, and on his way there an idea began to form in his head. It was rough and risky, but when he ducked back into the room and caught sight of the way Tony looked, he knew that rough and risky was going to have to do. They needed to get Tony somewhere safe, and they needed it quickly.

The others were relatively okay. Natasha had already come back around, and although her arm was definitely broken and she was suffering a mild concussion, she’d live. Rhodey had also only suffered a flesh-wound, the bullet piercing through flesh only. Bruce had been punched around a few times, but his self-defence training had pulled trough and he’d come out on top, so he was only facing a few bruises and some sore muscles in the morning. They could live another few days in here.

That was what made up Steve’s mind, in the end. Because HYDRA had come in on large, three-person motorsleds, and although they could have been used for the travel down, Steve was almost certain Tony wouldn’t survive that. Hell, _they_ might not even survive it, given the sudden steep drops, ravines, ice patches and a pitch-black night to contend with. But they couldn’t wait until morning, and they couldn’t go slowly. This was urgent.

So Steve acted.

Hauling himself upright, he informed the team briefly of his plan, waiting for their approval until leaving. They knew Tony’s state even better than Steve did and agreed almost instantly, trusting Steve to know what he was doing while they remained indoors and nursed their wounds, all of them huddled protectively around Tony’s unconscious form.

Setting up all seven of the sleds wasn’t too difficult. They were heavy, but Steve _was_ a superhuman. He might have sore arms in the morning, but he couldn’t say that was what was on the forefront of his mind just then.

All he could think of was how pale Tony had been. Bruce said he’d lost a lot of blood; that he’d been in and out of consciousness over the last few hours, but he didn’t seem to be coming out of this last bout of sleep this time. His body was weakening, fighting a dozen different problems at once. But it was going to be fine. Tony would be fine, help would arrive, and then Steve could finally do what he’d been meaning to do for months and just ask the man on a date. He’d been so cowardly about it; hoping that Tony might move first, wondering if Tony even liked him at all—but now he could see it, clear as day. He should have done it months ago. Should have done it as soon as he felt it.

He shook his head and hurled the last motorsled-engine onto the pile. It wasn’t worth worrying over now. He would do it when they got back home. And that was fucking promise.

Steeling himself, he stepped away, pulling out the zippo lighter that he’d found in the pocket of another HYDRA corpse. There was enough jet-fuel, pine-tree branches and clothes-polyester to blow a building apart. It would surely catch the attention of any search-party or JARVIS-based drone that was on the lookout around these areas. Which, by this point, he really hoped there was. Otherwise they were _definitely_ screwed.

He stepped back a few paces, braced to run, and then flung the lighter onto the open tanks of fuel.

He felt the heat and subsequent explosion as it all immediately caught alight, and threw himself as far as he could go before the fires could touch him. Landing awkwardly in the snow, he watched in awe as the thing went sky-high, burning right up through the trees and licking at the sky, heat almost unbearable . He scrabbled away further, burying himself in the snow.

There. No one could possibly miss that.

Help was coming.

*

It hurt.

It hurt, it hurt, oh god.

He couldn’t see, couldn’t…

It hurt.

Something made a noise. He was pretty sure it was him. The world rung out in his ears, a piercing sound. He winced. Tried to move, escape it. He couldn’t.

Something settled on his chest. Warm. A hand. It stroked, soft, along his collarbone. “Tony, love, it’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you. We’re gonna be fine.”

The voice. He felt calmer, he felt his muscles relax, but he wasn’t sure why. It was a good voice. Strong, deep, soft, kind.

Steve?

“It’s me, Tony.” There was a distant laugh, “I’m here, and the others are on their way. Just hold on.”

 _Steve_.

He forced himself to focus. Pulled his eyes open, focused on the hazy image of the person leaning over him. He had to say something. It was important.

“St’ve,” he heard himself attempt the name, “St… Steve. I need… I need to tell you… I—"

“Tony?” Steve prompted, and Tony wasn’t even sure whether this was actually Steve or just some vision, a pain-induced hallucination to help calm him. He appreciated his brain for giving him that, at least. “Tony, what do you want to tell me, hey?”

He tried to think of it. It was important. Something about love and dates and Christmas crackers, and…

“Don’t let anyone else sit on your right,” he felt himself whisper, which he felt, somehow, was not what he had been intending on saying.

Then he passed out.

And then he woke up again.

“Whassgonon?” His body shuddered and he jerked forward, expecting darkness and cold and an impending sense of dread. HYDRA were coming. That much, he knew. He had to prepare. He had to analyse the situation, take in what he…

Hang on a second.

The room around him was white, sterile, spacious. Soft sunlight filtered in through the windows on the left side, showing the tips of skyscrapers along the blue horizon. And he was warm. He could feel it all around him, temperate air, not a hint of chill in the atmosphere. This was definitely not the Alps, he realised.

No- in fact, he seemed to be in the medical wing of the Avengers Tower, if memory served.

Okay. _What the fuck?_

He blinked. Looked down at his leg. Shuffled it a little. It ached, hurt when he moved it too far, but there was no agony. No seeping wound, messily bandaged by Bruce and left out in the freezing cold.

How long had he been out? It had felt like seconds. And yet, apparently not.

“Ah. You’re awake.”

He jumped, turning to look at the voice that spoke from somewhere behind him. It took him a moment to process the face, but he got there in the end. “Doctor Cho,” he said dumbly, before the sudden deluge of memories came back to him. “The Avengers,” he breathed out, eyes widening and heart beginning to race, “are they—”

“All fine,” she assured him, raising a hand and stopping him before he could try and move, “safe and well. A few injuries amongst them, but nothing that time won’t fix. It was quite the fight, so I’m told.”

Tony paused, feeling the panic fade as fast as it had come. There were hazy images and vague memories of waking after Steve had arrived, but he had no idea how much of that was real and how much was delirium. Knowing that the team had all made it out was a huge weight off his shoulders, and he picked up the next question on his growing list. “Am I in South Korea?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “No. You’re just lucky that I happen to be in New York, is all.” She stepped forward and then pressed a finger into his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed. “You were in quite a bad way when you arrived,” she said, as if discussing the weather. “Fortunately, I am very good at what I do. The regenerated tissue is healing nicely, and your body accepted the new cells remarkably well. You won’t even scar.”

He looked back down to his leg, remembering the first instance that they’d seen the geneticist’s cradle in action on Clint. He sat up and poked it gingerly, wincing when it touched the sensitive skin. “Ow,” he muttered, before poking it again, a little softer this time.

Her hand descended and pushed his away, guiding it back to the side of the bed. “They warned me you’d be a nuisance,” Helen told him. “You’ll make a full recovery, but it still needs time to heal, so stop fiddling with it.”

“How long have I been under?”

“Only a day,” she informed him, “it’s the 26th. 3:42 pm.”

He paused, letting it sink in. He’d missed Christmas entirely. And most of Boxing Day too. The next question on his list had been concerning the whereabouts of all his friends, but he realised now they they’d undoubtedly be up in the penthouse by this point, cooking and drinking and having their celebrations.

He felt his face fall a little, and couldn’t help the disappointment creep in. He’d been looking forward to spending Christmas with them, and his whole ‘wooing Steve’ plan had been sort of dependant upon the specific traditions that came with the holiday. But if it’d taken him a day and a half just to wake up, it’d probably be at least another two before he could actually leave the medbay, which meant that by the time he was out, it’d mostly be back to every-day life,-- and by everyday life he meant lounging around eating nothing but toast and cereal while waiting for New Years to come around.

Ultimately, he’d missed his slot. Sure, it wasn’t the end of the world, and he could make a new plan in regards to asking Steve on a date, but still…

He flopped back into his pillows with a sigh. He was never going fucking skiing again. He didn’t care what Thor said to try and persuade him.

Helen made a brief call, undoubtedly to one of the team, because all she said was, “He’s awake. Yeah. Yeah, okay.” And then hung up again. After ordering him not to mess with the healing process and ruin her excellent work, she walked out of the room and left him to his own devices, presumably to go and do something else revolutionary and way cooler than what he was going to be stuck doing over the next few days. He really hoped to pick her brain one day. He probably needed to work on making her like him first, but after that, they’d have some amazing conversations, he just knew it.

For now though, she was gone, and Tony was probably going to have to find some way to pass the time for the next few hours, because the team were undoubtedly busy with—

The door on the other side of the room suddenly burst open before his train of thought could finish, and Tony jerked in surprise as he watched Thor- clad in the most grotesque festive jumper Tony had ever seen, and reindeer ears atop his head- stride into the room with a smile the size of his face. He was also carrying a huge turkey on a tray. “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

Tony looked at him from across the room. Thor, unfazed, wandered further into the medbay, eventually reaching Tony’s bedside. He placed the turkey carefully on top of the stand which held all their medical supplies. “I must be on a hell of a lot of morphine right now,” Tony said, eyeing both Thor and the cooked bird with suspicion.

Before Thor could respond, however, there was another thud and then accompanying sounds of laughter as more people piled into the room. Tony turned to them, spotting all of his friends as they made their way into the medbay, carrying a variety of things. At the front was Steve, and to Tony’s utter bewilderment, he realised the man was carrying a whole table through the room, hands gripping the legs and holding the brunt of it up against his chest as he made his way slowly across the room. He just grinned when Tony stared. “Watch yourself,” he said, and then before Tony could speak a word, he’d swung the whole table right over Tony’s legs.

Thor and Clint both rolled all the medical equipment back and then hurried out of the room, coming back a minute or so later with chairs stacked up in their arms. Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey and Happy were also present, and as soon as the table had been placed, they began piling it with dishes and plates, setting up as if it were a regular dinner.

Tony looked between them all. “What the hell is going on?” He blurted.

Steve turned at the exclamation, and his face softened. “We’re having Christmas dinner,” he said simply, like this was all normal and people usually barged into medical wings carrying surplus amounts of food and an _entire fucking dinner table_. “You were in a medically induced coma for the first one, so we put it on hold until you woke up. I’m glad to see you conscious, by the way. I’ll probably have a panic over everything that happened sometime later today, but for now… Christmas!” He paused, and then plucked one of the chairs from Clint’s hands, settling it on the right-hand side of Tony’s cot. The hospital bed was low and the table high, so it actually fit pretty perfectly, and with Tony sat up straight, it was almost as if he were sat at any other meal.

He turned to Steve, mouth opening, trying to think of something to say. But he was distracted by Rhodey, who, after setting down the dishes filled with carrots and brussel-sprouts, bent down and wrapped him in a gentle hug. “Good to see you up and awake,” his best friend said, ruffling Tony’s hair softly, “you had me worried for a second there.”

Tony looked up at him, giving him a once-over. He seemed fine, although he was leaning to one side pretty heavily. “How did we get out of there?” He asked, a little hoarse, because it was easier than acknowledging the fact that his friends appeared to have relocated their entire Christmas dinner to the med-bay, just for him. That was still being processed in his brain.

Rhodey smiled. “It’s a long story involving me, Tasha and Bruce kicking major ass and then Steve blowing a lotta shit up. We’ll tell you over dinner, I promise.” Then he grabbed one of the other chairs, sliding it under the table on Tony’s other side and looking around. “Who took the plates down?”

In bafflement, Tony watched as his friends all prepared the dinner table around him, setting out plates, knives, forks, food, and even the Christmas crackers. Tony’s mind jolted, and he zeroed in on their colors, because if someone got the wrong one now then it was going to be really fucking weird—but Bruce just saw him looking, laughed, and then placed the red & gold Christmas cracker down between Tony and Steve. Tony watched the man suspiciously. How did he know? Had Tony told him?

Oh God, had Tony told _everyone_ in his injury-induced delirium?

He went still in the cot while everyone continued to bustle around him, distantly hearing Thor ask whether they could cut the turkey yet. Steve was sat right next to him, but Tony kind of didn’t want to look his way. This was probably going to be embarrassing.

But then the man nudged him gently in his side, and he had no choice but to turn and face him, slow and nervous. When he did catch sight of Steve, however, he was certainly not expecting what he saw.

The man was pink-cheeked, tamping down a bashful smile as he looked at Tony. He was leaning forward, closer than usual. And his arm was raised, bent awkwardly above them.

Dangling from his fingers was a sprig of mistletoe.

Tony glanced up at it, and then looked back to Steve. The man huffed. “You probably don’t remember,” he murmured, “But you woke up for a bit when we got you on the jet and, uh, told me what you’d been planning.”

“Oh no,” Tony said, because he could imagine exactly how that conversation must have gone, and it wasn’t good. There had probably been far more things said than just the dumb plan. Feelings will undoubtedly have been revealed. Possibly a love confession.

Steve, however, seemed not to mind. “I thought it was a well-thought-out strategy. A little ostentatious. Very you. I liked it.” He wiggled the mistletoe between them and then laughed gently, cheeks still pink. “You still up for that kiss?”

Tony glanced briefly around him, looking at the rest of his friends as they pointedly talked amongst themselves while sat at the table. He didn’t fail to notice the glance and quick wink that Bruce sent his way though, and remembered the fact that he had been feverishly mumbling all sorts of incriminating things to the other man only a few hours ago.

Dammit.

“Tony?” He blinked and turned back to Steve, who was now looking slightly wary. Tony realised it had been a few seconds since he’d said a word. “If… if this isn’t the right time, or you’re not… I mean that’s fine too—”

“Oh _God_ no,” Tony blurted, and then he wrapped his hand around the back of Steve’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss before he could say another word.

Almost instantly the rest of the group, which previously had been looking for all intents and purposes as if they were minding their own business, suddenly broke out into roars and cheers, and Tony rolled his eyes fondly and smiled against Steve’s mouth as they kissed one another, slow and relieving, like a deep breath of crisp air. It was chaste, and they pulled away a few seconds later, but Steve remained close and they both laughed when they caught each other’s eyes, and their foreheads bumped as they chuckled. Clint said something crass across the table, then yelped in pain when Natasha undoubtedly punched him in the balls with the arm that wasn’t broken. A second later, and Thor asked if they were allowed to eat yet or whether they were going to have to wait for Steve and Tony to finish their moment. Bruce told him to be quiet and put something on his plate that wasn’t just a mountain of turkey.

Tony briefly thought about how glad he was about the fact that he had not, in fact, died in that cabin. And that his friends were all willing to move their Christmas-slash-Boxing Day meal down into the medical bay so that they could share it with him in here. And that they were all as insane, irritating and amazing as they were.

He turned around to them, catching Natasha’s eye. She had a set of butterfly stitches running across her forehead and her left arm was bound in a sling, but she seemed mostly unharmed. Rhodey, too, aside from whatever had happened to his side. Bruce had a black eye, but that was it.

He knew that they had fought for him. That they had put themselves on the line in order to keep him safe. That they would do it again, and again, and again if they needed to. That’s just who they were. For some reason, they had decided Tony was worth that.

One day, he’d manage to show them how much that meant.

For now, though, he’d enjoy the moment he was currently in. Which included a tantalisingly close Steve Rogers, an achy leg that he needed to remember not to jostle too much, and a late Christmas dinner with his closest friends.

He smiled, glancing back to Steve and then picking up the Christmas cracker between them. “I suppose I ruined the surprise with my delirious pain-babbling,” he began clumsily, suddenly realising that he’d just kissed Steve, and Steve knew exactly what Tony wanted, and he was trying to play that off but he was pretty sure Steve could see him blustering, because Steve was good at reading him, always had been. “But for the sake of showbiz, let’s pretend you don’t know what goodies are inside this otherwise innocuous Christmas cracker.”

Steve laughed. He was beautiful when he laughed. “Okay,” he agreed quietly, taking the other end of the cracker. Looking at Tony with amusement, he tugged on one end while Tony did the other, and a second later there was a crack as it burst. Around the table, the noise was repeated by everyone else.

Steve had won. He looked inside, pulling out the hat and placing it delicately on his golden-blond hair before pulling out the piece of paper from within. With a fond grin, he read the question out loud. “Thoughts on dating Tony Stark?”

He glanced up, eyebrow raised at Tony. Treacherously, Tony heard the heart monitor he was still connected to begin to speed up a little. Dammit. That was the downside to doing all this while still technically being bedridden.

But then Steve leaned in again. He kissed Tony’s nose, of all places. “I have very positive thoughts on that matter, actually,” he admitted, before his eyes flashed with seriousness and he looked deeply into Tony’s eyes. “I thought… I thought that I might lose you out there,” he admitted, and under the table he found Tony’s hand, lying flat on the hospital bed. He squeezed tight. “You were so pale and—and Helen Cho is a miracle worker, but it was touch and go for a little while, and… yeah. The point is, I don’t think I should waste any more time hiding the fact that I’m pretty damn in love with you.”

Again, although there was conversation around them, Tony couldn’t help but feel as if everyone was also keeping one ear in on their conversation and awaiting on Tony’s response with bated breath. Even Thor had temporarily stopped his loud sulky spooning of carrots onto his plate, as per Bruce’s request.

Tony smiled. “I always knew you’d come and get me.” He kissed Steve quickly. “And I love you too. Obviously.”

The look on Steve’s face made Tony want to say it a thousand times over, and maybe at some point he would. Maybe later tonight, even, if Tony was really lucky. Although it would admittedly be in a less sexy environment than what Tony had been envisioning. Having a leg that you couldn’t really move meant they were confined to hospital-bed snuggles only.

Ah, well. Tony could live with that.

Clapping his hands suddenly, he turned back to the table and looked around at his friends. “Right,” he said, “can all of you stop eavesdropping on our conversation and just eat already? And can somebody please sit me up? I’d like to eat my food like a vaguely normal person.”

Everyone mumbled a bashful apology, and Rhodey levered the hospital bed into a more upright position with a small chuckle and another ruffle of Tony’s hair. The table was wobbly thanks to the tiling of the medical bay floor, and Tony had to make sure not to move too much or else he’d knock his leg up against something under the table and cause himself a world of pain. It was pretty uncomfortable, really. But there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

Curling one hand tightly around Steve’s, he internally rejoiced at the fact that, despite everything that the universe had thrown at him, things had actually ended up going the way he’d planned them. Admittedly with some minor differences, but still. He’d gotten his kiss under the mistletoe. _And_ he’d gotten his date. Hell, he’d even had a confession of love thrown in there.

“Maybe I should get mortally wounded more often,” Tony pondered as Steve put some potatoes onto both their plates, “if this is the sort of result I get from—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Steve told him firmly, turning to Tony and shooting him his woeful eyes. “I’ll start worrying.”

“You mean you’ll _continue_ worrying?” Natasha quipped across the table, waving her fork at him and grinning when she turned her gaze on Tony. “You should have seen him earlier. Helen was like, ‘yeah, he’ll be totally fine, he’s just resting right now’, but Steve _still_ refused to help do any of the dinner prep in favour of just sitting here and holding your hand while you slept.” She huffed and shook her head. “You’re absolutely on washing-up duty, by the way.”

Tony turned to Steve, who just blushed and then shrugged. “I wanted to make sure,” he mumbled, “and anyway, I went and got the table for us!”

“Yeah yeah,” Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning back and then huffing when Tony squeezed Steve’s hand reassuringly. “God, I feel like we’ve just opened up Pandora’s box with this whole ‘Steve & Tony’ thing.”

“Probably,” Tony said, “although in my defence, I was happy to just die on that mountain with my love forever un-confessed like a 17th century Jane Austen character.”

“Oh, so it’s our fault for saving your life, is it?”

“Yep,” Tony popped the word before shoving a potato into his mouth, smiling at Natasha and then leaning sideways so his cheek rested on Steve’s shoulder. Steve hummed happily. He was still holding the slip of paper from the Christmas cracker, and his crown was still skewed on his head, and his body was warm and strong, and Tony realised that he wouldn’t mind staying in this hospital bed at all if Steve was there with him. Which spoke volumes, really, because barely anything could keep him still for long.

He asked again about what had happened after he’d passed out in the cabin, and this time, Rhodey began to retell the story with his usual flare, because no matter what he said, the man was dramatic as hell. The way he described it made it sound as if certain death had been inevitable, and from the way Steve tensed up a little next to him, perhaps that hadn’t been too far from the truth.

But that was just their lives, he supposed. Certain Death to them meant very little. They were used to it.

And now, 24 hours later, Tony was here. And he was okay. They’d beaten HYDRA, they’d gotten home, and they were celebrating Christmas, albeit a little behind schedule. Steve was holding his hand _. Steve was holding his hand._ What the hell? Tony had planned this for months and months, trying to visualise how it would all pan out, but this had definitely not been what he’d expected. In fact, he’d barely even expected Steve to say yes at all.

But, hell, he wasn’t going to reject a Christmas fucking miracle when one came along. He grinned to himself and leaned even further sideways to kiss Steve’s cheek, because that was allowed now, and maybe he was a little doped up on painkillers and it was making him more impulsive, but whatever. Steve’s cheek was _right there._

Steve turned to him, catching him just as he winced at the stretch. The other man sighed, but returned the kiss, this time on the mouth. “You’re gonna be a nightmare about this, aren’t you?” he said quietly. “I really shouldn’t have to say this, but please don’t reopen your wound just to kiss me.”

Tony looked at him. Then he grinned, and just for the hell of it, he kissed Steve again. “No promises, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr @itsallavengers :)


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